


Two and a Half Winchesters

by milliej_child_of_hades



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Carry On My Wayward Children, Hah you thought WRONG, Sam and Dean have a significantly younger sister, You thought Sam would be the protective brother
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-23
Updated: 2019-08-26
Packaged: 2020-09-24 17:08:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,049
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20362066
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/milliej_child_of_hades/pseuds/milliej_child_of_hades
Summary: Dad's dead, and Dean only has an address. Sam doesn't know, and Bobby doesn't trust John too much. What's the worst that could happen? AU Set from season 2 onwards.





	1. Chapter 1

"Watch out for Sammy, alright?"  
"I will. But, Dad, you're scaring me."  
"Don't be scared, Dean."  
Dad had come into my hospital room, and he was worrying me. Why was he saying this? He leaned over my bed and whispered something in my ear. Ok. 21a Parkinson st, Sebeka. Why was he sending us to Minnesota?  
"I promise."  
And with that, he left. It was maybe an hour later that Sam had found him and when the nurses called the time of death. 10:41 am. He was dead.  
The next couple of hours seemed to happen in a blur. The nurses removed Sam and me from the room, having to sedate Sam with a small dose of ketamine. I let them take me out with no argument. I realize now that I was in shock. After that, it was just a lot of questions. What were our names? What was our relationship with the patient? Did he have any funeral or health or life insurance? They went on and on until I felt like I was going to punch the next person who asked me a goddamn question about my dad. Then some pimply, fresh out of university med student asked me about burial plans and I did snap, thrusting my fist into his pepperoni face. I got sent out of the hospital, a semi-conscious Sam following me slowly. We sat down on the curb.

"He's dead isn't he?" Sam mumbled, slurring his words from the sedative still in his system.  
"You know that he is," I huffed, telling Sam to stay while I went inside to call Bobby.  
"Hey Bobby, reckon you could pick the two of us up? We're at the hospital-"  
"Give me a couple."

"And you're sure that he said for you to go to Sebeka?" Bobby popped open another beer as I nodded. His brow furrowed in slight confusion before settling. "I haven't heard about anything happening there."  
"We'll get there as soon as we can if Dad had the balls to ask me on his deathbed."  
"Don't hurry, Dean. Your father kept too many secrets. I'd hate for you boys to fall prey to one."


	2. Chapter 2

It'd been four hours on the road since Bobby's and since Dean had told me that he'd try and save me. He'd ended the conversation by turning up his music.

"Where are we going?" I asked.  
"Sebeka. Job," was the blunt reply.  
"What type?" I received a shrug. "Where in Sebeka?"

"I just have the address from Da-"  
"Dad, Dean? Dad told you something and you forgot to tell me? Dean, It's been eight months."

"You think I don't know that?" His voice rising over the sound of Led Zeppelin. "It's just a back-burner thing. Not that important, that's all."

"We've had plenty of time, Dean. How much longer anyway?" I shook my head and threw my weight further back into the seat.

"Another 30, so don't head off to sleep just yet, Sammy."

After hell from Dean blasting music, he pulled up outside a random apartment building. The yellow brick and faded curtains told us everything. The town itself was tiny as well with only two gas stations, both of which capped the town's main road. Getting out and ringing the number to receive an immediate buzz-in was definitely out of the ordinary. We headed up a half-flight of stairs to the door labeled 219a, and I knocked on the door. Inside there was a scurry and a pot crashing to the ground before the door opened. A little girl stood there, heaving a sigh.

"Laurel? Did you get that damn door?" A voice from the back of the apartment called, the raspy tone lowering before talking again, no doubt into a phone.

'Laurel, is it?" The little girl nodded profusely at Dean's question, wide eyes staring up at him.

"I'm Sam, and this is my brother, Dean," I paused, "What do you like to do?"  
"Watch Buffy and play with spaceships," She rose up on her toes like the excitement was lifting her off.

"May we come in?" I asked to which she nodded again. It was like she was part bobble-head. The apartment was small and cramped with paintings and pictures all over the walls. Books and magazines were scattered in one corner by the small television across from the single sofa. Dean sat on the sofa and started to chat with her about spaceships. I followed the hushed voice into the half-hidden back of the main room.

There was a woman, maybe in her early forties with the fakest red pixie cut I'd ever seen. She was hovering over a pot of red meat and sauce, and another pot was boiling pasta in. Her head was tilted to hold the phone on her shoulder.

"No, Karen, still no sign of him. I - I know! They used to have a week or so every month but then… Hang on, I just have to drain the pasta - Laurel! Did you get that door?" The woman turned around and jumped, sloshing some of the water out. "Who the hell are you?"

"My name's Sam. Your daugh-"  
"Ha! She ain't mine. That little runt's mama passed some months ago and her deadbeat father is a no show. I'm their neighbor, Jan."  
"Well - uh, my brother and I got sent here and we don't know why."

"Her daddy wasn't stashing money here, was he? Ooh, to think I could be rich because of the lil' witch."

"I wouldn't know ma'am. But we got asked to do this around July-"  
Jan finally put her phone on hold a sat the pasta in the sink. "Well, I'll be damned."  
"By what?"

Jan just ignored me and walked through the hallway to a closet, opening it and pulling out a photo album. She turned to a page somewhere in the middle and there, grinning and covered in buffalo sauce, was the little girl, Laurel. And to her right was my dad. The writing beside the picture said it was her seventh birthday, with her and her dad. I squinted at the photo, trying to make sense of it but failing. "Did you - uh - know his name?"

"I heard Kate call him John a bit."

I gulped. It couldn't be.

Could it?

**Author's Note:**

> Hello my dears, I know that as a writer, I haven't uploaded anything in ages. AND I'M SORRY, but I'm going to try and publish a new chapter at least every fortnight (biweekly if you're American). So please review and favourite as it warms my heart. AND I AM AUSTRALIAN, so you will find some spelling different depending on where you're from.


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